Sarai

by Jill Eileen Smith

  Sarai’s stomach dipped as he drew her into his arms. She blinked away the sting of tears, grateful beyond words that she had not heeded Melah’s advice, had run from the gods of her people. Abram’s God would provide him an heir. She would bear a child after all!

  She felt Abram’s hand rubbing circles along her back. “Will you come with me, Sarai?” He whispered the question as though he were suddenly uncertain.

  She pulled back from his embrace and touched his face. “Of course, dear husband. I am bound to you in all ways. Where would I be without you?” She smiled at him, pleased to see the joy return to his gaze.

  He bent his head and kissed her, a passionate, lingering kiss that awakened her senses. Perhaps this God would indeed grant her a son if Abram’s sudden ardent affection were any indication.

  She giggled at her own humorous thoughts as Abram lifted his mouth from hers. “Supper awaits you, my lord, unless you were planning to help Adonai’s promise come to pass before you fill your belly.”

  His stomach rumbled in response, and they both laughed. He patted his middle even as he wrapped one arm around her waist. “You do tempt me, dear wife,” he whispered, nuzzling her ear.

  She laughed lightly again, then noticed their father slowly coming toward them. “I don’t think our father will wait for us.” She kissed his cheek. “He’s put off eating, waiting for you, and the food is past ready. But of course, he didn’t know you were so unexpectedly detained.”

  She took two steps forward, expecting Abram to join her. When his feet didn’t move, she halted, not wishing to depart his embrace. Her mind was still reeling with all that had happened. Was it true? Would she indeed bear a son of the promise?

  “The voice did not detain me long. The sacrifice did.” Abram’s words carried tenderness. And perhaps a hint of regret?

  She faced him again, her back to their father. “What sacrifice? Did your God require a sacrifice greater than the one He has already requested? Isn’t it enough to leave our family, our father, our inheritance, our friends? What more could El Echad want?”

  Abram cupped her cheek again, studying her, then his gaze skipped to some place behind her. “Blood sacrifice was handed down from the days of Noah, to make atonement for our sins. Our ancestors Eber and Nahor both taught this to me, though our father has not done so. Adonai Elohim did not ask it of me, but I knew in my spirit it was the right thing to do. I sacrificed one of the rams to Him.”

  Sarai looked away, her gaze catching a glimpse of Abram’s pet, the spotless lamb he favored. There were only a few perfect sheep in the flock, and even fewer rams. The only spotless one she knew of . . . She looked into his face again, surprised when his gaze met hers so intensely.

  “Which ram?” She needed to know. Yet she already did.

  He took her hand in his and turned her away, walking them both toward Terah.

  She forced him to stop. “Which one, my lord? You must tell me if I’m to follow you.”

  His gaze darkened ever so slightly. “Did you not just tell me you were bound to me in all ways? Following me should have nothing to do with which ram bore the sacrifice.”

  She recoiled at his tone, suddenly irritated that he should use her own vows against her. He didn’t have to remind her. Didn’t she always obey his commands? Didn’t she even today obey when she didn’t sacrifice to the goddess? She didn’t need his reminder. She needed him to tell her he had chosen a ram she didn’t care for in the least. Not one she fancied.

  “I chose the one most like me,” he said at last. “There were only two choices, and he represented my sins better than the other one.”

  “So you would spare your favorite and sacrifice mine.” The words came out more bitter than she’d expected. Selfish male! What man had ever looked out for a woman above himself? She turned away from him, about to stalk off.

  He caught her arm. “Sarai.” His voice, both gentle and commanding, beckoned her to pause. She let him slowly turn her to face him. He grasped both her hands in his again. “I saved this one”—he glanced at his pet, then looked back at her—“for you. If we are to seek the Lord’s favor, we must both offer Him our best. They will both shed their blood to cover our sins. I will take you to the altar first thing in the morning.”

  His words pierced her conscience, humbling her. She lowered her gaze, undone. “I’m sorry, my lord. I’ve misjudged you.”

  He tipped her chin toward him. “It is an honest misjudging. We must each part with everything we love. Except each other.” He kissed her again, then took her hand and called to the ewe who would give her life for Sarai in the morning.

  3

  “If your God told you to go, then you must go.” Terah leaned heavily on his staff and sat down on the bench beneath the parapet along the perimeter of their roof. He took time to settle his bulk, gave a short cough, then looked at Abram. “I will go with you.”

  Sarai’s feet stopped a pace behind Abram’s as he walked across the roof, her breath catching at his words. Abram’s God had told Abram to leave his father’s household. But of course, they couldn’t leave Terah behind. Who would care for him in his old age?

  “Are you sure you are up to travel, Father? I would not expect you to leave all you possess to join me. Surely Nahor will welcome you, especially now that he will inherit my land portion.” Abram sat on the bench opposite their father and crossed his long legs at the ankles. Sarai sat next to him, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.

  “Do you think me so old that I cannot ride a camel across the desert, my son? It will be good for me to move about more. These bones get too stiff sitting all the time.”

  Abram opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it again, clearly at a loss. Sarai glanced from one man to the other. Did Abram actually expect to talk their father out of something once his mind was made up? By the look in his eyes and the set to his jaw, their father had come to an immovable decision much quicker than she’d anticipated. How was that possible after so many years living in one place? She herself was still reeling from the enormity of what such a move would mean. And yet a little thrill passed through her. Was it true? Would she finally bear a son?

  She would go to the ends of the earth with Abram if it meant she could finally keep her vow.

  “You can’t possibly expect to travel alone, just the two of you. You will need provisions, servants, and your flocks. What would you eat without their milk and cheeses? You will need their wool to warm you. And Lot will join us, of course.”

  Abram stiffened at their father’s announcement, then let out a long, slow breath. “Lot may see things differently, Father.”

  A feeling of relief flooded her, and she scooted closer to Abram. As if he sensed her need of him, he put one arm around her and drew her to his chest. She liked Lot well enough, but she would almost be glad to leave Melah behind—a constant reminder of all she did not have.

  But, of course, if the promises were true . . .

  “You will need a steward to manage your affairs, someone to oversee things as you travel. Have you considered Eliezer of Damascus? He seems capable enough.”

  Sarai’s mind drifted as the two men continued to talk, to work out the details they would need to travel to . . . where? Abram’s God had not told him where. He had simply said to go. But when they did go, they obviously needed to take many camels to carry all of the supplies. They couldn’t go without servants, of course, and they would need flocks of both sheep and goats. She must set the servants to sewing tents made of goat’s hair, and food needed to be gathered and stored . . .

  She started as Abram squeezed her arm, drawing her attention back to him.

  “We will leave within a month. That should give us plenty of time to gather all we need,” Abram said, pushing to his feet and drawing her up beside him.

  “Only a month, my lord?” Sarai glanced at Terah, who was slowly making his way to the steps. “There is so much to be done.” Had she been lost in thought so long that they were rea
dy to retire to their beds? Or was the urgency of leaving pushing them onward with unseen hands?

  Abram held her back from following their father. “We must do all we can to obey Adonai soon. A month is a reasonable time.” He bent closer, his dark, speckled beard grazing her cheek. “Make sure to pack plenty of things for the coming little one. You will bear my son yet, beloved.” He nibbled her ear, making tingling sensations rush through her.

  “Do not fool with me, dear husband. Unless you plan to do something to make this supposed promise come to pass . . .” She let her words trail off and captured his gaze with a twinkling one of her own.

  Abram looked up at the sound of their father grunting his way down the steps, mumbling to himself. A small scowl drew a thin line between Abram’s brows, and Sarai turned to follow his gaze. When their father was out of earshot, Abram pulled her closer. “He will make the trip difficult, but I could not refuse him.”

  “Of course not. He is our father.”

  He nodded, relief flooding his face. “I knew you would understand.” A smile turned the corners of his mouth, and he bent to kiss her. “Now let’s go below and find a way to see Adonai’s promise fulfilled, shall we?”

  Her heart sang as she smiled her response and let him lead her down the steps.

  Abram stood in the courtyard of his father’s vast estate, shading his eyes against the sun’s afternoon rays. He would normally rest in the relentless heat, but the need to gather provisions and obey Adonai’s call urged him to push harder, to finish the work. He had already dispatched Lot to purchase more servants who would come with them to tend the sheep and help with the move, while his brother Nahor had begun preparations to take over Terah’s estate once Abram and Terah had departed. Would they truly be ready to leave by week’s end?

  He ran a hand along the back of his neck, watching the road in the distance. Abram had chosen to sell his portion of his father’s lands to his older brother at a reduced rate in order to keep the ancestral lands in the family. He could not afford to simply give them away, lest they run short of needed funds to purchase supplies that they might need along the journey. The enormity of what he had done, what he was about to do, only skirted the edges of his thoughts. He would not allow it to sink in too deeply. Not until they were on their way with no chance of turning back in disobedience.

  He scanned the area in front of him from left to right, at last spotting his servant Eliezer coming toward him across the field, leading a heavily laden camel. Abram stepped from the stones of the court to walk the worn path toward the edge of the gated estate. He passed beneath the shadow of the ancient terebinth trees that kept watch over the land, trees older than the flood itself. The camel snorted as it came to a stop behind Eliezer, obediently bending at the knees and lowering itself to the ground.

  “Greetings, my lord,” Eliezer said, dipping his head in respect to Abram. “I have secured the last of the items you requested—grain, herbs, blankets, fine linen, leather, knives, camp ovens, and skins of wine, plus gold, silver, and trinkets for trading. The items you sold brought a fair price.” He moved to the camel’s side and untied one of the sacks, pulled a pouch from it, and placed it in Abram’s hands.

  Abram undid the drawstring and poured the hefty weight of gold coins into his palm. He did a quick count and transferred them back into the bag, nodding his acceptance. Eliezer had proven his ability and his worth. His father had been right. He would make a good steward.

  “If it pleases you, Eliezer, I would have you come with us on our journey. I need wise servants and someone who will be capable of overseeing my household goods. If you are willing, I would make you my steward.”

  Eliezer drew a hand over his square, bearded jaw, then rested it on the camel’s neck. A young man in his early forties, Eliezer carried a sturdy, confident build and a character Abram had quickly learned to trust.

  “I would be honored to be your steward, my lord. I have nothing to keep me here.”

  “Good. You will be in charge of all necessary provisions and trade and keep a financial record of all I have. I will trust you to secure information of new territories before we enter.” Abram tied the pouch of gold to his belt.

  A shadow passed through Eliezer’s dark, intelligent eyes, and his gaze moved from Abram to something beyond him.

  “Does something trouble you, Eliezer?” Abram motioned for Eliezer to move from the sun to the shadow of the great spreading terebinth. “I would know your mind before we set out rather than have you change it along the way.”

  Eliezer bent his head and kicked a small stone with the toe of his sandal before lifting his eyes to meet Abram’s gaze. “There is something about me you must know. I wish to keep you from suffering my fate.” Eliezer’s face darkened, but his look remained unwavering.

  “Tell me,” Abram said, not at all sure he wanted to know the man’s story, but certain he must. “Sit with me and explain yourself so I may know all that is in your mind.”

  Eliezer nodded, waited for Abram to sit first, then sat a few paces away from him. “As you know, I am from Damascus. My wife and I grew up there and married several years ago.” A pained expression crossed his face, and he looked into the distance, in the direction of Abram’s house. “We were married three years, but Jerusha had yet to bear a child.”

  Abram rested his hands on his knees, all too aware of the pain of a barren wife. He tilted his head in a slight nod but held his peace.

  Eliezer’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he clasped his hands in front of his body. “One day my business ventures called for me to travel to Nineveh, and Jerusha wanted to come with me. She loved the idea of travel, and I had yet to take her outside of Damascus. I had heard the rumors of foreign kings and beautiful women, but I had not believed them, thinking no man would be so cruel as to steal the wife of his neighbor.” His gaze met Abram’s and held. “I was wrong.”

  Abram’s stomach sank like a stone dropped in a well. He said nothing, waiting, his mind whirling with ramifications and fear, knowing already what was to come. The rumors were true then.

  Eliezer seemed to find fascination with his feet, like a man ashamed of what he is about to say. “We went to Nineveh. I told Jerusha to veil herself, to hide from the perusal of men. But the king’s spies were everywhere, searching for beautiful women to add to his harem. They came in the night and stole Jerusha from my bed and took her to become wife to the king. They tried to kill me, but a friendly guard allowed me to escape with my life. My goods, my wife—everything I had taken with me but the clothes on my back—were lost.”

  Abram drew in a sharp breath, finding the air suddenly too painful to breathe. Sarai was the most beautiful of women, fairest of anyone in the land of Ur. But in Ur, where his presence was well-known, she was protected. No one would harm the wife of one of Ur’s leading elders. What would become of her in foreign lands, where they were not known?

  “What should I do?” The question formed before Abram had a chance to process another thought. He had to protect Sarai, yet he had to obey Adonai’s call.

  Eliezer looked up, his expression carrying a hint of surprise, as if a master should never need advice but would be the one to give it instead. “I don’t know, my lord. Unless . . .”

  “Unless what?” Abram ought to know what to do, should have considered the matter the moment he’d heard the rumors and planned for the unknowns of the future. But it was too late now to look back on what should have been.

  “You could pretend to be your wife’s brother. A brother has more rights, can protect the women in his charge. Men might seek you for her hand in marriage, but you would have the right to refuse them. Or at the very least put them off until you could get out of their city. It would buy you time.”

  Abram plucked a blade of grass from the ground and chewed on the end. Such a plan would be the truth, what he would tell of it. Sarai was indeed his half sister, as they shared the same father. And if it would ensure her safety, and his . . .

  H
e pushed to his feet, noticing the mild stiffness in his back, the slightest twinge he’d not felt before. After seventy-three summers since his birth, he shouldn’t be surprised at these initial signs of aging, but he was. Shaking the thought aside, he turned to find Eliezer waiting for instruction.

  “I will speak to Sarai and request her to tell everyone who asks that she is my sister. Let those coming with us know of our plan. For Sarai’s protection.”

  Sarai sifted through her sewing supplies, running her fingers along the smooth, multicolored threads. Piles of fine linen fabric, balls of colored wool, and a variety of sizes of bone needles filled the basket to the top. She closed the lid at the sound of footsteps behind her and turned to find Abram standing at the threshold of their bedroom.

  “My lord, I didn’t expect you so soon.” She looked into his strong, handsome face. The faintest hint of silver threaded the strands of his dark hair at the temples, and his full beard held a mix of black and gray with strands of red mingling in, as though the hair could not decide what color it should be. His bushy brows were drawn, and little lines appeared on his normally smooth brow. For his age, Abram was a striking man, still strong and virile, still her heart’s only love.

  She smiled as she took two steps toward him. He met her in the middle of the room, his hand extended.

  “We must talk.”

  She placed her hand in his and accepted his kiss. Memories of their nights together since the One God had made His promises to Abram stirred her thoughts now, making her ache with longing. Surely El Echad had quickened their desire. Surely He would soon fulfill His promise.

  “Talk about what, my lord?”

  Servants’ voices came to them from the halls of the house, and the clatter of carts and braying of donkeys filtered through the open windows. While they were making quick work of packing to leave, Nahor and Milcah were moving in, creating a chaotic commotion.